GARDENS, WREATHS, &c. 
17 
While holy Mary at thy shrine, 
Another pure flower blooms, 
Welcome to thee with news divine,* 
The lily’s faint perfume. 
Proudly its stately head it rears, 
Arrayed in virgin white, 
So Truth, amid a world of tears, 
Doth shine with vestal light. 
And thou, whose opening buds were sht 
A Saviour’s cross beside, 
We hail thee, Passion Flower alone 
Sacred to Christ who died. 
No image of a mortal love, 
May thy bright blossoms be 
Linked with a passion far above, 
A Saviour’s agony. 
All other flowers are pale and dim, 
All other gifts are loss, 
We twine thy matchless buds for him 
Who died on holy Cross. 
* The Lily blooms about Annunciation day. 
2 * 
